


Opera Night

by Bayerick



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, me being pretentious, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29416377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bayerick/pseuds/Bayerick
Summary: A gift for my very good buddy Dan, for the 2021 TMA Valentine’s Day Exchange.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Original Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4
Collections: TMA Valentine's Exchange 2021





	Opera Night

**Author's Note:**

> I love writing Elias and Frankie and I probably will add more to this eventually, when the mood strikes. Implied sexual situation but nothing explicit. Yet.

6PM. 6:02. 6:05.  
Frankie has been glancing at the clock every few minutes, it feels like, and every minute that passes feels like an hour. At least with an analog clock you get some sort of satisfaction from the ticking, from the steady tap of the hands marking each second. Not with digital, though.  
Frankie falls on the digital end of the spectrum, like his clock, like his radio station, his expensive headphones—well, Elias bought him those for his birthday, technically. (He’d badgered him on how much they were, but Elias just waved at him and murmured some nonsense about it being “no match for the price of your love,” and that had been the end of the discussion, both parties mollified.)  
Elias is an analog a man as Frankie’s ever met. Of course, the whole “secretly a Georgian nobleman” thing is part of it, but Frankie figures he finds old fashioned things romantic. He likes his antiques and his Leitners and his wine the same way, ancient. (Luckily for him, though, he likes his boyfriends a little less so. )

But the thing is, they’ve generally compromised on that end, and it’s not like Frankie has a real problem with old fashioned things. Which has brought the two of them to tonight.  
Elias had come across tickets about a week ago to an opera from an Institute benefactor—The Magic Flute, in particular—and had not hesitated in inviting Frankie. 

“What do I even wear, Elias? It’s not like I can go in leather pants.” Frankie had moaned.  
“You could,” Elias had responded, not taking his eyes off that days newspaper, but raising an eyebrow. “If anyone tried to judge you, I’d spill their figurative guts. Perhaps their literal ones, if you really wanted.” He turned a page, languidly as ever.  
“So leather pants. How about the spiky vest? The one with Baphomet on the back?”  
“Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,” Elias droned in response, but Frankie spied a glint of humor in his eyes.  
“Nerd,” he said affectionately. “I expected as much, you going on and quoting Crowley or some shit.”  
Elias broke his gaze from the papers, and gave Frankie an amused smile. “Very good. You do catch on. But, on the matter pertaining to the dress of the evening,” He had placed his hand on Frankie’s—warm, elegant, and softer than it looked. He stared Frankie full in the face, and Frankie felt his heart flip a little in his chest, like it always did when he did that. Stupid Elias.  
“I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy yourself, so, if that means you wear your spiky devil shirts and your leather pants, or if you wear a three piece suit, I’ll think you handsome all the same.”  
Frankie gulped, and felt his face redden. “F—fine, jeez. So—uhh, what do you think, though? Personally.”  
“Personally?” Elias paused, thoughtful. “Well, I always thought you looked absolutely stunning in that navy suit. It matches your hair, and makes your eyes stand out. But, of course, that’s only my opinion.”

That day had come and gone, and so here Frankie was, choosing the best of both worlds; skull cufflinks and a matching tie pin in his navy suit. He worried the left cuff in his fingers as he stared the clock down like an enemy.  
The Magic Flute, huh? Mozart. The famous one, full of epic story and song and dance. He’d researched it beforehand— trying to keep his mind steady and pass the time. Every time Elias asked him out, he’d get a bit nervous before hand. But it was always worth it.  
Finally, he heard the telltale doorstep creak outside his flat, and not long after, the bell rang. His heart leapt into his throat.  
There, leaning like there was nothing more natural in the world, was Elias. The silver on his temples caught the stray gold of sunset, and the whole image just bowled Frankie over. His suit was a dark burgundy, and he had a rather fetching pin in the shape of an eye on his lapel. Figured.  
He extended one hand to Frankie, with a calm smile.  
“Are you ready, darling?”  
Frankie grinned in response. “Always.”

*

The opera was excellent, made sense, mostly—bird people and occult symbolism notwithstanding, and yet, Frankie continued to find his gaze within the dark theatre fixating on his companion. Elias, as ever, was more focused on the audience than the actual events on stage. His eyes glinted with each turn of the spotlight. Even here, in a privately situated theatre box, he lorded over everyone. (To be honest, it was actually kind of hot.) Frankie snuck small pieces of chocolate —expensive stuff bought at the door, that his boyfriend insisted he try—and lost himself in the music, in Elias’ presence in equal measure. 

Elias caught Frankie one point, though, entranced and wide eyed. The swells of horn and violin, and then, through it all, a sonorous bass of a voice. Tamino and Pamina were about to go through the myriad of trials, instructed to by Sarastro, a priest of a mystic order.  
Something about Sarastro, surprisingly, had captured Frankie’s attention. Of course, the performer was incredibly skilled, but Elias couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Sarastro struck a tall pose, draped in gold and crimson, as he began his aria.  
He leaned over towards Frankie, enough that his earring brushed his shoulder, and spoke low, amused, in his ear.  
“I would have taken you more for a Queen of the Night type, given your proclivities for darkness.” He joked.  
Frankie rolled his eyes, and then turned back to the stage, enraptured.  
“Do you know what he’s singing, Frankie?” He asks.  
His companion shakes his head. “I...really like it, though.”  
“Usually these sorts of operas have subtitle screens attached—I find it detracts from the story and atmosphere.”  
“Purist.”  
“Let me translate for you.” Elias murmured. He placed an elegant hand on Frankie’s thigh as he leaned closer, lips brushing his temple as he spoke.

“O Isis and Osiris, gift  
The spirit of wisdom to the new pair!  
You who guide the wanderer’s steps,  
Strengthen them with patience when in danger!  
Let them see the fruits of their trial;  
But should they head to their grave,  
Then reward the virtue of their bold try,  
Take them into your abode.”

Frankie shivered. The intertwining voices of Elias and the singer seemed to completely merge into one.  
“He’s asking the ancient gods for mercy, for guidance.” Elias said almost casually, as he slowly drew back, running his fingers over Frankie’s knee.  
“To let them reach the end of their journey, and if they face death, to be welcomed. A lovely sentiment.” He finished.

Frankie caught himself before he tried to fully follow Elias’s hands, the warmth of his body, but watched him all the same. A remark tripped off his tongue, daring, before he could stop it, much less feel shame about it.  
“I doubt I’ll be strengthened with patience tonight. Not after all of this. You teasing me, all of that.”  
“Teasing?” Elias whispered back, in mock surprise, but Frankie can see his eyes glint with mirth, with promise.  
“Perish the thought. It isn’t as if I won’t be following up on any of the promises that I have made to you tonight. As I said earlier, I want you to be happy. I want you to enjoy yourself.”  
Frankie paused for a second, and then grinned.  
“And if my being happy hinges around you having to be very, very quiet in this theater box?”  
For a second, there is a bright look of actual surprise in Elias’s eyes, like Frankie’s actually caught him off guard for once. Then, he’s the smuggest Frankie’s ever seen him. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt, loosens his tie, and gave his companion a sideways look over heavy lids. Elias lounged like some sort of misplaced royalty among the faux-velvet seating, half shadows from the spotlights darting over his cheekbones, his now exposed neck, as he leaned back and sighed.  
“Then I have no choice but to indulge you, darling.”


End file.
